Page 41 of The Golden Rose Of Valenul

Markus dismounted, and they clasped forearms. “Good evening, General.”

In unison, Azriel and Madan dropped to their feet, and each held out a hand to the Harlow women. Emillie balanced her weight on Azriel’s while Ariadne hardly touched Madan on her way down. Once standing, they curtsied low to the General in greeting.

“Miss Harlow.” Loren kissed Emillie’s hand first, then took Ariadne’s and let his lips linger a breath longer before saying, “You look very well, Miss Harlow.”

“You are too kind, General.” Ariadne’s cheeks flushed.

Azriel bit back a scowl at the discomfort in her eyes as she pulled her hand from Loren’s.

Madan dug an elbow into his side and hissed under his breath, “Hold it together.”

He grunted in response and averted his gaze.

“What brings you to the Court House tonight?” Markus looked up the steps behind the General, a light frown forming.

“Drunk and disorderly conduct during training,” Loren explained. He adjusted his weight so he turned his back to the women, cutting them off from the conversation.

Madan shot Azriel another warning look as though taming a rabid dog.

Markus, however, appeared unphased by the adjustment and nodded. “A pity to see such behavior within the ranks.”

“I do not see such recklessness amongst the Caersan ranks,” Loren said and lifted his gaze to Azriel. The corner of his mouth twitched, and he continued, “Poor breeding makes for a half-rate soldier.”

Heat sparked in Azriel’s veins at the jab. He grit his teeth and glared back at the General. Holding his tongue, though difficult, was pertinent in moments like this. The need to prove him wrong outweighed the desire to shut him up. Besides, he’d heard worse before.

“I hardly think it has anything to do with lineage.” Ariadne’s voice was the last thing Azriel expected to hear at that moment. By the look on her father’s and Emillie’s faces, he was not alone.

Loren, however, smirked. “Miss Harlow, what would you know of this matter?”

She drew herself up, cheeks rosy. When she spoke next, she did so with a strong voice and looked Loren in the eye. “The pressures of the military are likely to cause a breakdown of morale. Perhaps instead of insulting your men’s parentage, consider addressing their trauma.”

Azriel watched in disbelief. Was she defending him? Madan’s eyes widened. Emillie paled. Even Markus looked at his daughter as though she’d grown a second head. No one spoke for a long moment.

Then Loren laughed. He laughed at her and stepped closer. “Oh, Miss Harlow, you are amusing.”

The corners of Ariadne’s mouth tightened, the anxiety melting away in a flash to reveal a woman Azriel had yet to see. Her words left her low and hard, “Excuse me?”

“What would a Caersan woman know about the pressures of the military?” Loren shook his head, still grinning. “Your most exciting days in the Society are trivial at best.”

Madan seemed to understand what was happening before Azriel registered what he was doing. The other guard’s body blocked his path with one hand pressed against his chest. The edges of his vision turned dark, and his head throbbed.

“Gods damn you, Azriel,” Madan hissed. “This is not what I meant.”

“Remind me, General,” Azriel growled over Madan’s head, “when the last battle you fought was?”

Loren pivoted to glare at him. “That is none of your concern.”

“If you’ve forgotten,” Azriel’s voice grew louder with each word, “she has seen and endured more than most of your pampered Caersan officers.”

“Tenebra, stand down,” Markus snapped, eyes flaring.

But Ariadne gaped at him in astonishment. He didn’t know what she saw in his face, but whatever it was didn’t appear to frighten her. She said nothing, though, and looked to Loren. Only then did her expression give in to fear, and damn if it didn’t add to the fire in his blood. She feared him.

“You gained your title as General from your fortunate breeding alone.” Azriel pressed forward, Madan’s open hand curling into a fist against his chest in warning. He ignored it. “You wouldn’t last one minute with what Ariadne went through.”

“You do not have the right to speak of her with such informality.” Loren stepped closer, face white with rage. “Cease immediately, or there will be consequences.”

Vampires paused on their way in and out of the Court House, drawn in by the sudden argument between the General and his subordinate. They whispered and watched with piqued interest. He didn’t care. He couldn’t care about any of them. Not so long as that man attempted to demean Ariadne Harlow in front of him.

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